


The Dragon the World Needs

by Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka), TightAssets



Series: The Very Smutty Hawke/Lavellan Chronicles [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Porn, Background Relationships, Body Worship, Digital Art, Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - The Final Piece, F/M, Fade Sex, Female Cadash/Varric Tethras - Freeform, Grief/Mourning, Hawke Left in the Fade (Dragon Age), Heavy Angst, NSFW Art, Save Hawke, Shameless Smut, Shapeshifting Inquisitor, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:28:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29703336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TightAssets/pseuds/TightAssets
Summary: Lilitu finds Keaton Hawke in her dreams after he stays in the Fade. Their reunion only drives her on in a desperate search to find a way to save him.
Relationships: Male Hawke/Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Male Hawke/Female Lavellan (Dragon Age)
Series: The Very Smutty Hawke/Lavellan Chronicles [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921195
Kudos: 2





	The Dragon the World Needs

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the [14 Days of Dragon Age Lovers](https://14daysdalovers.tumblr.com/) event on Tumblr run by the ever amazing [Scharoux](https://scharoux.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Prompt featuring TightAssets' art! The prompt is #13: Ask Me to Stay

Skyhold stands silent as a tomb around Lilitu, a gloomy shroud dimming the afternoon sunlight on the stone. The pennants and banners hang limp in the fog. As far as she can see, there’s nobody there. Her home is silent. Empty.

_As it should be._

The thought flits through her mind and is gone before she can quite catch and examine it. It leaves behind a sense of unease and a choking grief she doesn’t understand. She’s afraid if she stands still she’ll be crushed under the weight of it, so she does the only thing she can.

She goes on.

Nobody appears to greet her when she walks under the portcullis. Nobody hollers her name from within the fortress. And yet, there are remnants of life: a training dummy with Cassandra’s sword embedded within it’s straw guts, a hastily abandoned quiver of arrows, a pointed hat forlornly discarded next to a well worn journal.

 _Where are they_?

“Cassandra!” she shouts. “Sera! Cole! Var-”

She’s overwhelmed by a sudden memory. Varric sitting in the great hall at a table, tears falling down his stubbled jaw, quill moving over a piece of paper…

She flies up the stairs as if she’ll catch him there, but when she flings the doors open the great hall is just as empty as the rest of the fortress. But Varric’s letters are there, next to a well worn deck of cards and a stack of freshly fletched arrows. Lilitu scans the room, searching for any sign of life. Outside the windows behind her throne, the moon casts a halo of light around her throne.

 _Moonlight._ The back of her neck prickles with unease. But it had been daylight, she had just…

Her eyes slide from the throne to the open door beside it. Her quarters are _never_ left open for any passing courtier to go in and poke through her belongings. Leliana will be furious when she finds out.

Lilitu blinks and she’s in her staircase, climbing the last few steps without any real memory of how she’s gotten there. The answer is on the tip of her tongue, but her mind feels dulled, her limbs heavy.

She is tired. More tired than she has ever been, so tired that when she crests the stairs the sight before her makes no sense.

There is a man, the largest man she’s ever seen, sitting on the edge of her bed. He strokes his beard while he stares into the fire, lost in thought. He’s shirtless and he looks so at home in her quarters tears nearly prick her eyes.

It takes her a moment of searching through her foggy brain to find the words, but she knows. She knows she is finally home.

“ _Ara iovru_ ,” she breathes.

There are lines at the corner of his eyes. Have they always been there? She struggles to remember, feels as if there are so many things she has to tell him, so many unanswered questions.

“Kitten.” His mouth curls into an exhausted smile. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

She chokes back a sob. “ _Mi’nas’sal’inan, vhenan_.”

He unfolds his arms and holds them out in invitation, the flickering fire reflected in his eyes. “I missed you too. Come here.”

She throws herself into his bulk without another word. Arms cling to his shoulder just as he cages her against his body. She marvels at the warmth of his skin, the solidness of him, her hands slipping down his muscles to trace familiar scars.

But they’re not all familiar. There are new ones, pink and barely healed. He still flinches from her touch on them like they ache. “What happened?” she demands.

“We’ll let Varric tell the story,” he declares, one massive hand stroking up her spine until she curls into it like a cat. This makes him smile, but there’s something unbearably sorrowful about his expression. Something that causes the empty pit of her stomach to fill with acid.

His fingers find her chin and tip it up until he can lightly brush his lips over hers. He inhales, shaky, and whispers her name like a prayer. “ _Lilitu_.”

Her hands find his jaw, the soft beard beneath her fingers, and she cradles him in her hands while she meets his kiss. It’s slow, soft. Keaton kisses her as if he’s trying to memorize the twist of her tongue, the tiny noises she makes when he slips his tongue past hers. He explores her like he’s never done before, like this is the last chance he may have to do so.

She can’t bear it.

_But she can’t stop it._

His hands roam while he kisses her with the same gentle determination to map her. He finds where her shirt is tucked into her pants, pulls it out with one deft tug. Then his hands are on her bare skin, the whisper soft touch of his fingers tracing figures into her flesh.

He never breaks their kiss. It only becomes hungrier as he reaches for her pants, undoing them with quick, deft movements. The brush of his fingertips over her pubic bone is enough to make her gasp and pull away from his mouth.

What Lilitu sees in his face is both reassuring, and not. The desire is familiar, so familiar it’s like slipping into a warm bath after days on the road. Beneath it, though, there is an unquenchable inferno that speaks of danger. Of _fear_.

Keaton is not afraid. Keaton is _never_ afraid, not even when-

“I need you, Kitten,” he rasps, rolling her pants down her hips. “ _Maker_ , do I need you.”

She swallows the lump in her throat and tips her lips into the sly, inviting smile she knows he loves most. “I am here to be taken.”

He pulls her shirt over head, but Lilitu isn’t sure what happens to her pants and boots. Nor, to be honest, is she sure what’s happened to _his_ pants. They seem to melt away when Keaton reaches for her and pulls her back onto the bed with him. By the time she hits the sheets, they are gone.

It is only her and Keaton. Her palm cradles his jaw and he nuzzles into it, pressing one soft kiss in the center. Blue eyes trace her form beneath him, the way her pale hair is spread around them, the curl of her crimson vallaslin over her white skin.

When he descends, he starts at the long, curled fingers of her free hand. His beard tickles her fingers while he presses kisses to the tips of them before moving to her wrist, her forearm. Her pulse flutters beneath him and she squirms, but allows him this leisurely exploration of her form.

If it is what he wishes, she can give him this.

She _owes_ him this.

His breath ghosts over her collarbones before he traces the same path up her other arm. Then his beard brushes over her chest while his tongue traces the soft curves of her breasts, swirling in gentle circles until he finds one nipple to tease to a stiff point. Then he moves his attention to the other, repeating the same maddening treatment.

Lilitu chokes on her moans, trembling, nerves on fire beneath his insistent touch. His fingers run over her ribs, down to her thighs, and for a moment she dares hope his clever tongue will find its way between her legs. Instead, his teasing kisses trail down the inside of her thighs like a path of fire.

She presses herself up on her palms shakily, watching him cross to her other knee and press the same relentless, teasing kisses up her skin. At the same time, his thick fingers brush against her slick folds.

Lilitu hisses and bucks into the touch. The look Keaton shoots her from between her thighs is both fond and amused. The spark of life in his eyes makes her smile immediately, but some dark thought drifts through her mind.

 _This cannot last_.

She shudders and reaches for him. “No more teasing,” she begs. “I need you.”

Keaton slides up her body in a heartbeat, his free hand tangling in her hair while he smiles down at her. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, “Gotta say, I’d do anything for you.”

That is _exactly_ what she’s afraid of.

But before she can voice the fear in her throat he’s throwing one thigh over his muscled arm, the head of his thick cock brushing against her. She gasps and clings to his neck, burying her face into his broad shoulder while he shifts to slowly sink into her.

Deeper. _Deeper_. Until she’s chanting his name against his skin and he hilts inside her. He groans his approval, fingers digging into her soft skin. “Maker, I’ve missed this.”

She has missed _him_. His voice, his smile, the way his broad hands span her thighs and the way he rocks into her, lighting every nerve on fire. She moves with him while he sets a pace that’s as decadent as Josephine’s imported chocolates. As smooth as Varric’s expensive whiskey.

He presses the same soft, sinful kisses to her neck, her shoulder, the pointed tip of her ear. Beneath her hands his body trembles with desire but he holds himself steady, perfectly in control, slowly driving her up the edge of the cliff until she’s frantic with need.

“Keaton-” she moans, catching his jaw in her palm again. “ _Faster_!”

“Easy, Kitten,” he rasps, “I want this to last.”

“There will be other nights,” she proclaims, wrapping her legs around his waist to urge him on. She seizes his lips with hers, pressing them together and letting her pure, violent desire break over him.

He moans helplessly and his thrusts quicken. He doesn’t stop kissing her, not for a moment, not even when he shifts his angle and the drag of his cock over her clit makes her cry out.

Not when her orgasm chokes her like a wave and leaves her panting and breathless, dizzy against his lips.

He doesn’t even stop when he jerks forward inside her clenching muscles, burying himself and filling her with his seed with a broken, soft moan. Lilitu swallows it greedily, wrapping around him like she can hold him to her.

_Like she can hold onto him._

“Ask me to stay,” she demands. The words don’t make sense, and yet they do. His forehead presses against hers. When she opens her eyes all she can see are his.

“Can’t do that, Kitten. You’ve got things to do.”

She bangs one fist against his chest. Tears rise to her eyes, blurring his beloved features. “Ask me to stay!”

It’s a command, but she knows he won’t do it. His thumb lightly brushes away one tear that’s fallen down her cheek. He shakes his head, his expression a study in agony.

“You don’t need to stay, Lilitu. _I_ stayed for you.”

* * *

She wakes alone, the room too bright, too cold.

For a moment she is disoriented. She reaches out, expecting to brush against the reassuring bulk of Keaton’s body in her bed. She will simply roll over, throw her thigh over his hip, bury her face in his back, and return to the Fade.

 _The Fade_. Where she left Keaton Hawke.

The sharp cry of pain rings off the high ceiling. It tears its way out of her chest like a trapped animal, all claws and teeth, ripping her flesh to ribbons. But when she clutches at her skin, she’s whole, and that is _wrong_.

Everything is so _wrong_.

Lilitu curls into herself like the wounded thing she is, knees to her chest, trembling, waiting to hear Keaton’s soft exclamation of shock, to feel his hands prying her fingers from her knees.

It never comes. It never does, anymore.

Instead, this has become a daily ritual. Twenty minutes curled in a ball trying to breathe through the pain before she emerges into a world gone dark, a world that feels _meaningless_. A world she would, truly, allow to burn if not for the fact it would render Keaton’s sacrifice useless.

* * *

The moment she emerges into the great hall, bustling with people, she is accosted with problems. An Orlesian with papers that she glares at instead of taking, a messenger attempting to pass on a scroll from Cullen. It is all noise, irrelevant noise, and she considers lighting them all on fire and being done with it.

That is, until a small figure elbows through the crowd without an apology despite the sputtered protests of the Orlesian. Maria Cadash, all red hair and furious eyes, silences him with nothing but a glare.

Then she looks up at Lilitu, expression softening. “Small problem,” she begins softly. “Morrigan’s kid decided to take a stroll. Through the Eluvian.”

 _That_ cuts through the haze of noise. Lilitu focuses on the dwarf, frowning. “How?” she demands.

Maria simply huffs and turns on her heel. “How the fuck do _I_ know? Weird shit happens all the time and now we’ve got magic mirrors laying around for kids to just run into.”

“He is in the Crossroads. They are abandoned.” Lilitu moves through the crowd with the dwarf by her side, eyes straight ahead. One task to the next, only moving because staying still is unbearable. “It will be easy to find him.”

“It’s _never_ easy,” Maria mumbles.

Deep down, Lilitu knows she’s right.

* * *

Nothing can prepare her for stumbling into the mirror and emerging in the bleak, sickly green light of the Fade.

She thought she couldn’t go back. She thought she could _never_ go back.

She twists as if she expects to see Keaton behind her, but instead the Eluvian shimmers behind them. Morrigan is speaking of the power it would take to redirect the Eluvian to the Fade, but only one thought flies through her head.

He’s here. Keaton is here, _somewhere_ , and she can find him. They can be _together_.

If he lives. If he is not merely bones beneath the Nightmare’s web.

Morrigan runs onwards through the only path. Behind her, Maria slips through the Eluvian with a startled oath. Lilitu whirls and grabs her shoulders, shoving her back. “Go. Find others.”

“Find the others?” Maria sputters, one small hand clinging wildly for the frame of the mirror. “Who? Why? Tell them what?”

“ _Daran_!” Lilitu spits, giving a powerful shove until Maria vanishes back through the sparkling surface. She doesn’t wait to see if she reappears.

Instead she chases Morrigan through the familiar and alien landscape. At every corner, she expects to find Keaton on the other side. Bleeding, broken. Whole, healthy. Possessed and furious asking her why she’d left him.

She almost runs into Morrigan, who stops short in horror to look at the tall woman staring back at them triumphantly. Her horned headdress scrapes the sky, her hand lays possessive on Kieran’s slim shoulder. Even without the cacophony of whispers springing to life in her head, Lilitu would know her anywhere.

_“Varric actually didn’t make that part up, right hand to Andraste. Flemeth herself came down and saved my Ferelden ass as a goddamn dragon.”_

She restrains Morrigan without a second thought, her body leaping into action before she can consciously consider it. The realization dawns on Morrigan’s face, but Lilitu is already at that conclusion. She already _knows_.

She’s also not sure she acted entirely at Flemeth’s bidding. There’s something knowing in the woman’s sharp gaze, as if she’s aware of what Lilitu wants. As if it is in Flemeth’s power to give it to her.

“I have no commands for you,” Flemeth sniffs, dismissive despite the wry twist of her lips. “ _Yet_.”

“I do not serve any but myself,” Lilitu snarls.

Flemeth looks delighted. She steps forward, beaming in pride. “Such proud blood in you, _da’len_. And how far you have come, how you have suffered.”

For a moment, Lilitu stares at Mythal, Asha'bel'annar, _Flemeth_. They look at each other, silently waiting until the old woman dips her chin to invite Lilitu’s question.

She only has one. It spills out of her lips immediately. “Is he alive?”

The witch laughs. It echoes against the shattered cliffs, into the sky. “A man as foolish and stubborn as he? Of course he is, _da’len_. It’ll take more than the abyss to hobble your Hawke.”

“I am going to save him,” she hisses. “He is coming back. With me.”

“Is he now?” Flemeth tips her head to the side, studying Lilitu with a smirk. Morrigan pulls away, clutching Kieran, and allows Flemeth to approach Lilitu with glowing fingers extended.

“Then you shall need some help, yes? A trick that will _truly_ impress your beloved. He was so taken with the idea himself but you…”

Flemeth’s eyes sparkle with mirth. “You, my dear, are the dragon this world needs.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ara iovru: my bear cub   
> Mi’nas’sal’inan, vhenan: I feel the knife once more within my soul  
> Daran: Go  
> Da’len: Child
> 
> Fine Dwarven Peen Crafts Direct from Pornzammar with love at: [@tightassets](https://tightassets.tumblr.com/) and [@cartadwarfwithaheartofgold](https://cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com/)!


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